The World's Spinning Around
by Carlet
Summary: Addison never leaves LA, instead pursuing a tumultuous relationship with Mark. What happens when she gets into a devastating car accident, pregnant with their child, seconds before he's about to propose? Loosely based off Song Beneath the Song. Contains Maddison and MerDer.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This is my very first time writing a Grey's fanfic; I recently starting watching Grey's and Private Practice and couldn't help but ship Mark and Addison. I mean hello their chemistry is off the charts and even Shonda herself wanted them to be together in the end.**

 **Few things to keep in mind-this is loosely based off Song Beneath the Song, although of course it's Addison in the car crash and not Callie. The flashbacks start towards the end of season 3, a little after Addison returns from LA, and then the story goes AU.**

Chapter 1

You wait and you wait for the perfect moment to propose. Because let's face it, everyone wants _the_ picture perfect proposal (if there even is such a thing) they can look back on (and let's be real, brag about) for years to come. But let's say you wait too long, because of course you want everything to be right, from the music to the flowers to above all the location…until you end up blurting it out at the most random time.

That was his first mistake.

In hindsight, he should've foreseen so many things. The slick conditions of the perpetually wet Seattle roads. The sheer number of travelers because it was _freaking Memorial Day weekend._ The way things had been going so beautifully and wonderfully marvelous for the past several months.

The mere idea of a simple weekend getaway before Carson's (gender unknown, as she'd wanted to wait until his/her birth to find out, the ultimate surprise, she'd called it) birth was nothing more than tempting fate, or rather laughing and spitting in its face because he had the _audacity_ to believe that they'd finally get the blissfully happy ending they'd both craved for so long.

What an idiotic notion.

* * *

His head was throbbing, something wet, probably blood dripping down around his hairline. He could feel the rough nylon against his face, and for a second he almost wanted to remain buried, and could almost pretend it was just a pillow, albeit uncomfortable, and he'd open his eyes and find her curled into him, her red waves spilling out in haphazard directions, his hand wrapped around her rounded stomach. He slowly raised his head a couple inches, almost fully expecting to be back at home.

She wasn't in her seat.

He sat up quickly, a little too quickly, and for a second he swore he saw stars float before his eyes. He shut his eyes and rested the back of his head against the seat for a moment, taking slow, deep breaths. So she wasn't in her seat. Perhaps she'd already exited the car, taking out of her cell phone, yelling at whoever had the misfortune to be on the other end. Out of all his experiences, the most valuable lesson had to be to never cross Addison Montgomery when she needed something.

Yes, that was it. She had to be outside. He opened his eyes, and then saw it. A pair of feet, still clad in a pair of expensive heels. And that's when all hope that everything would ever be ok again slowly dissipated, replaced by cold dread.

Because he knew those shoes. Just that morning, they'd erupted into a huge argument about those damn shoes, with the fancy name he could never remember but could recognize after knowing her for years and finding her damn shoeboxes everywhere. Black, leather, with a wicked heel he hadn't wanted her to wear, but that she'd insisted on wearing because if anyone could rock a pair of heels it'd be her. He'd relented of course.

He pushed the button to unbuckle his seat belt, fumbling once, twice, three times before pulling the damn thing loose. The car door opened rather easily, and he stepped outside to find her curled up, lying on top of the car.

 _No._

"Addison!" His voice sounded low, rough, almost like a growl.

The calm, almost deafening silence of before was broken by soft whimpers, her chest rapidly rising and falling. Although her eyes were only half open, he could see the pain and panic in them, and the desperation and fear that chilled him to the core.

One of her arms lay at an awkward angle, and the word broken came immediately to mind. The blood soaking his hairline was laughable compared to the red pool rapidly growing beneath her. Yet that was nothing compared to the internal damage he could only begin to imagine.

Her hand shakingly lifted up, perhaps working its way down to her stomach, as her eyes darted around rapidly. "M…M…"

He took her good hand immediately, stroking her hair, warm sticky blood mingling with the red of her hair. "Shh. It's all right."

She started to gasp loudly and fearfully, clearly distressed and shocked, as comprehension of what happened settled in.

"Hey, look at me. I'm here." He said with tenderness he never imagined he possessed. "You're going to be okay. I promise you. We're going to be ok."

 _Was she, though?_

Without taking his eyes off her, he managed to take out his miraculously undamaged phone with one hand, mumbling almost incoherently, barely able to communicate their location, her status, and that they needed help _now_ , not thirty minutes from now, but _now,_ because she was going into shock and he needed help _now._ He could dimly hear the driver of the truck speaking into his phone as well, likely to a different 911 operator.

Her eyes started to slide closed. "No!" He roared, dropping the phone, the operator on the other end immediately forgotten. He tapped her face with one hand, the other one still encasing hers. "Stay with me."

How many times had he thought those very words? The many nights she'd crept out of his apartment to back to her (now ex) _husband_. The night she'd informed him in a detached tone that she was going to Seattle. The morning she left him still in the hotel bed, telling him he'd been nothing but a booty call.

"Stay with me." He repeated. "Addison." Mark Sloan did not beg, yet when it came to her, all senses and logic were lost.

But like so many other times where she listened to no one other than herself, her eyes fully slid shut and did not open again.

The paramedics arriving were a blur. The ambulance ride, chaotic and full of shouting, was a blur. All he could remember was desperately clinging to her hand, responding angrily that he was a doctor and would under no circumstances leave her side whenever anyone tried to say otherwise.

Somehow, they arrived at a place Mark had started to think of his as his, no as _their_ second home (especially since that was likely where they'd conceived Carson). Seattle Grace Mercy West.

They were pulling the gurney where she lay out, and he stumbled forward almost blindly. And suddenly dozens of blue scrub clad figures were rushing forward to meet them.

"Hey!" A voice shouted beside him, but he was focused on nothing but Addison, staying with her as he'd once silently promised he'd do back in med school when she'd pout-begged him to not leave her to cram alone in the library. "We got her. She's in good hands. You need to stay back. And get that checked out," she said, nodding at the cut on his head.

Bailey. This caused Mark to pause for a second, long enough for the gurney to be rushed out of view and into one of the trauma rooms, completely surrounded by the other attendings shouting instructions and directions at each other. Interns stood by and gawked, completely horrified at seeing that instead of a nameless, faceless patient, it was in fact one of their mentors lying on that gurney.

"No!" He protested, pushing against the arm she'd thrust out to block him. "I-I need to be in there!"

Miranda Bailey was not one to be pushed around. She was not called the Nazi for nothing; hell some of the other attendings were often intimidated by her, and yet seeing his anguished expression caused hers to soften in a way that was rarely seen. "Alright. But you need to stay back." She repeated. "I mean it."

Like he could be operating on her with the way his hands had started and would likely never stop violently shaking in a way he couldn't control. He could only bring himself to nod curtly as he followed Bailey.

Inside, the attendings rushed around, throwing around words and phrases he'd known so well for nearly 20 years, yet as he stood dumbly at the back of the room watching them monitor this and that, yelling out things like "pressure's dropping" or "O2 sats" they sounded foreign and strange. Part of him wanted to jump in, his brain automatically categorizing what to do first and what could wait, but one look at her face and that achingly familiar hair, and his knees buckled so that he had to lean against the wall for support.

His eyes fell onto her swollen stomach. _Oh God. The baby. What if-_

"C-can you check…" his voice sounded choked and hesitant, getting exactly no one's attention. He curled his fingers into his palms and tried again. "Check for a fetal heartbeat, damnit!" This time, he sounded a lot more confident than he certainly felt. Everyone paused for a moment, and then he heard Richard telling everyone to step back while Lucy Fields, who was slated to be Addison's replacement during her maternity leave, instructed them to keep quiet.

Maybe it was only a few moments later, he couldn't really tell, but a telltale sound suddenly filled the room. Mark nearly collapsed against the wall, and he could see that weary relief was visible on everyone else's faces. For right now, at least, all hope was not lost. Their little miracle, one both he and Addison had wanted for so long, was still alive.

But the moment was not long lasting, because seconds later the room filled with a different kind of sound, this one indicating impending death instead of life. Mark watched with a sort of morbid fascination as her body gracefully arched up with electricity once, twice, three times, and a tube was shoved down her throat. How was it that a few simple instruments could mean the difference between her coming back to life or being forever lost to him? How could everything be taken away with such a simple moment?

"Charging to 200." Owen said, his jaw set with concentration. He readied the paddles, and the other surgeons backed away. Her body lifted up and down quickly, yet monitor still indicated a flat line with a question mark.

"Come on, Addison." Bailey murmured. Mark was suddenly reminded of the way she'd once mentioned that there weren't too many people she could stand, but Addison was definitely among those she actually liked.

The paddles were charged again and again, to no avail. Owen looked helplessly at the monitor and back down at Addison's almost serene face. At this point they normally would've given up, if it was a regular patient.

If it was a regular patient, that is. But this wasn't.

"Sloan, maybe-" Owen began.

It wasn't Mark who spoke up. His voice was lost, gone. Instead, it was Derek. He always did know how to read Mark's mind, to a certain extent. "Absolutely not. She wouldn't give up on us, and we're not doing this for her. Again."

As Derek spoke, his face full of emotion, Mark was reminded of the fact that his best friend had once possessed deep feelings for _her_ , something that had caused no small amount of jealousy, hate and rage to build up inside him. He'd never appreciated her as much as Mark did, and he still trumped Mark when it came to the length of time he'd had to call her his wife. 11 freaking years. But over time, as he and Addison got together for real, those feelings smoothed out, and they'd become Derek and Mark and Addison again as they once were in med school and for a long time after.

Owen acquiesced, and readied the paddles again and again. Mark stuffed his fist against his mouth. _No, you can't do this. Come on, Addie. Please. I can't lose both of you. Not like this._

By some miracle, the beeping dissipated, her heart rate skyrocketing back to a normal-ish range, and the gurney was wheeled out towards the elevator, still surrounded by Derek, Meredith, Callie, Arizona, April, Jackson, Owen, Cristina, Richard, Bailey, and…it was almost laughable that the hospital's best surgeons were busy attending to one patient while there were so many more that needed saving.

But she would never be just a _patient._ Not to him, and not to any of them.

He almost wanted to tell them to go and help someone else, because this might be a futile- _no._ If nobody was thinking that, why in the hell was he?

What the hell was wrong with him?

He attempted to follow the gurney-after all, he _was_ one of the best surgeons Seattle had to offer and damnit this was _Addison_ and he swore she'd never be alone anymore and right now despite being surrounded by so many she might end up irrevocably and forever alone, but a short, squat shape blocked his path.

This time, Bailey shook her head firmly. "No, nuh-uh. You're not going anywhere near that OR. Not inside and certainly not in the gallery. I don't care who you are or who she is. You will go get that head of yours checked out and grab a coffee, take a nap or quite frankly stay the hell away while we do our jobs." She then turned to the side. "Hey! Come here! Yes, you fools, I mean you!"

Two visibly trembling interns shuffled over, unable to look him in the eye. He recognized the shorter one as one who'd worked with Addison just the morning before.

"You two are in charge of keeping Dr. Sloan away from the OR, you hear me? I don't want to see his ass or either one of yours until I page you."

"What gives you the right-"

"I'll tell you what gives me the right. This is Addison we're talking about. I know what she means to you, to all of us, and if you know what's good for her _and_ you you'll listen to me."

"She's my best friend! My family! She's all I have!" As he spoke these words he knew they weren't quite true. The blue scrubbed figures riding up in the elevator with her, Derek, Meredith, Richard-they were all his family. But not in the same way she was.

"She doesn't need you dying." Again, Bailey's expression softened as she spoke, and he could sort of see how she also earned the reputation of being caring, albeit in an aggressive way. "Not on my watch." Despite her shorter stature, Bailey impressively managed to intimidate him, sort of. She walked rapidly away, shooting a glare at the interns. "Now get lost."

 _Get lost._ How ironic. Without her by his side or a simple page or phone call away, he already felt lost in more ways than he could imagine.

 **Author's note: So what did you think? Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He (and the two interns who were tentatively tailing him) somehow found his way to the first floor lobby, where patients, family members, doctors and nurses milled around as if nothing had happened.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Gossip always had its way of spreading like wildfire at Seattle Grace, and as he walked around dazedly he could see people staring at him, somehow already _knowing._ He kept his gaze down, not wanting to see their pity. He noticed a man sitting on a bench, his shoulders shaking as his head was buried in his hands. Was that what he looked like right now? Nothing more than a broken mess?

 _No, stop. That's not going to help._ Mark trained his focus elsewhere, his gaze landing on the nurse's station about a hundred feet away. And suddenly memories began flooding back.

 _Two years ago_

" _I lied."_

 _Addison didn't bother to look up from the chart she was focusing her attention on, tapping a pen against the counter at the nurse's station. Her glasses lay on the bridge of her nose in the same way she'd always worn them ever since med school as she frowned down. "Really, now?" She asked absentmindedly, still scribbling in that messy handwriting that did not fit her upper crust upbringing._

 _This was not how he imagined it, with his palms sweaty and his heart pounding. This was not they were supposed to happen, especially not with her barely paying him any attention. He hadn't even wanted to tell her, because clearly she didn't want to be with him, if her stumbling out of the on-call room with that stupid intern was any indication. But he didn't think he could live for another second without telling her once and for all how he truly felt._

 _He placed a hand on her arm. "Addison."_

" _Yes?"_

" _Did you hear what I said?" He said almost urgently._

" _Mmm…" That got her attention, sort of. She looked up at him, and he could see the irritation written all over her face._

" _Forget it." Suddenly, all he wanted was to walk away and lick his wounds somewhere. This was not how this was supposed to go. Although did he really expect her to immediately fall over at his words and into his arms?_

 _Besides, what else did he have to lose? She'd mentioned, in a sort of off-hand manner, how Naomi had offered her a freaking job at their stupid clinic in stupid LA. Addison hadn't mentioned whether she was planning on taking it, but he knew her. Unfortunately, picking up and running was one of her specialties. She'd done it in med school, choosing to skip an entire week of class and hiding out in one of the Montgomery's many summer houses after failing a particular nasty class. She'd done it emotionally, pushing him away after Derek left in a way she'd never done before he found them in tangled in bed together, hair still wonderfully tangled from before. She'd done it just a week ago, taking a random vacation to LA after God knew what went down with fucking Karev. Yes, running away was one of Addison Montgomery's many talents._

 _If all went wrong, he'd at least have the comfort of knowing that he tried. Although living with the fact that she'd moved thousands of miles away would not be pleasant._

" _No, wait." Addison gazed up at him now, curiosity in her expression. "Tell me."_

 _Just like so many other times, he couldn't say no to her. He never could. He mentally steeled himself for her reaction as he repeated his words. "I lied. About…when I told you I broke the pact." He practically mumbled the last part, instinctively moving his head closer to hers to avoid any gossipy nurses overhearing and spreading this around._

 _Silence. Addison blinked, but that was it. She open and closed her mouth and stared at him._

" _Hello? Addie?"_

 _An urgent beeping finally broke her stare. She reached into her pocket for her pager._

" _Um, I have to…"_

" _Go." He responded, inwardly cursing loudly. "I'll find you later."_

 _But six hours, if he didn't know better, he'd say she was purposely avoiding him._

 _He'd checked the OR board. It was clear of her name, which meant she didn't have the excuse of a long, complicated surgery for not being around. He'd sweet-talked a couple nurses into checking to see who were patients were. She was nowhere to be found. He'd ducked into the on-call room, the cafeteria, the roof and even the stairway._

 _So where the hell was she?_

 _It wasn't until around 1 am that he caught a glimpse of fiery red ducking out of a patient's room. Completely brushing off a random resident who'd been updating him on God knew what, he started to take off towards her. "Addison!"_

 _But she didn't stop. Strangely enough, she hadn't broken out into a full out run/sprint, which she usually did when she received an urgent page. Instead, she walked at a fast yet steady pace._

" _Hey!" He called, catching the attention of everyone in the hall except her. But she didn't seem to hear him, or maybe she was just ignoring him, as she continued at the same rapid pace. She turned the corner and extended an arm out to push open a door. It was likely nobody else would notice, but he saw her hand trembling ever so slightly, and when he squinted at her face he swore he saw tears glinting in her eyes. He was about to follow, but the telltale sign stopped him. The one place he clearly wouldn't be allowed in-the women's restroom._

 _So he waited. Casually leaned against the wall and pretended to be busy, studying the clipboard in hand and nodded nonchalantly at patients passing by. Every couple seconds, his eyes darted to the bathroom door. It swung open with a steady stream of women, yet none of them were her. He tried to catch a glimpse of the inside when a large group came out, holding the door open for each other, but that only earned him a strange look._

 _Finally, he was starting to lose his patience. It had been about…eighteen minutes according to the wall clock. He knew women could take forever in the bathroom doing God knows what, but something felt off, especially given the hurried way she'd rushed inside. What if she'd hit her head? What if she lay inside dying in a pool of blood? What if-_

 _That was enough to propel him forward, to leave his spot against the wall and push open the door without a second thought. An older woman, maybe a patient's family member, stood at the sink washing her hands. She frowned disapprovingly at him and opened her mouth, but he shot her the famous Mark Sloan smile, which did the trick, although as she backed out she still looked peeved._

" _Addison?" He called, checking the stalls. Empty, empty, empty. Finally, he came to the last one. There was no response, yet he knew without a doubt it was her. He still remembered tripping over those wicked heels morning after morning back at his apartment in New York. He could hear small, slight sniffles._

" _I know you're in there."_

 _There was a rustling sound. Instead of its usual crisp tone, her voice warbled. "M-Mark? What are you doing in here? You can't be in here."_

" _No shit. But we didn't get to finish our conversation earlier. You kinda left me hanging."_

 _He saw her straighten up, and the sound of the toilet flush. The stall door swung open; she click-clacked forward. Other than her red-rimmed eyes, she appeared totally fine, although he knew she'd been taught from birth to hide all emotions inside._

" _Are you ok?"_

 _Addison didn't respond. Instead, she walked over to the sink and began washing her hands as if nothing was wrong._

" _Addison. You can't ignore me this time."_

 _In response, she vigorously pumped the soap and turned the tap on full blast._

" _You can abuse the crap out of the sink, but I'm not going anywhere!" He shouted over the sound of the gushing faucet._

" _What do you want from me?" She snapped._

 _He was momentarily taken aback by her tone, but refused to back down. "I want an answer. I know you heard me earlier."_

" _Correct."_

" _So…" He started. "That's it?"_

 _She didn't respond again. She shut off the faucet and tried to sidestep him, probably to try and leave. When he stepped in front of her, she stomped her foot in frustration. It was almost adorable._

" _Mark! I need to dry my hands!"_

 _Oh. He handed her a piece of paper towel, and she glowered at him as she took it, focusing on drying her hands as though it was the most fascinating thing ever._

" _I need an answer." He repeated._

 _Addison wheeled around to face him. "It doesn't matter. Not…anymore." She slumped against the counter, suddenly seeming to lose all of her fight._

 _What did that even mean? "You don't even want to know why?"_

 _She shrugged. "Like I said. It doesn't matter."_

 _After so much time spent together to the point where people thought he was her husband instead of Derek, he could read her better than anyone. "What happened? It's not like you to run and hide. Did something happen in LA? Was it Karev?"_

" _What? No."_

 _Liar. "I never slept with anyone." He said in lieu of probing any further. "But I know you did. I saw you."_

" _Why didn't you say anything? You let me believe-"_

" _Because I know you don't want to be with me, and I didn't want you to feel guilty!"_

 _Addison blinked. "So you never-"_

" _No."_

" _That's not like you, to not say anything, to not lord it over me."_

" _You know better than anyone I've never been like that with you." Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing with frustration. Why was she so dense? "I want to be with you." He said. "I love you. I always have. You know that. And I don't care if you don't feel the same, but I couldn't stand not telling you any longer."_

 _Well, that was done. He was about to walk away, to go back to man-whoring to disguise the fact that the only woman he'd ever loved didn't return his feelings, but suddenly her arm was on his and then she was tiptoeing, throwing her arms around his neck, her lips against his, and then his hands were tangling themselves in her hair, and she moaned, and he raised her up so that she sat on the sink and their hands were roaming everywhere and it felt wonderful and he was happier than he'd been in a long time…_

 _Until she broke away, her head snapping to the side. "Mark." She gasped. "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."_

" _Why? What's wrong? I know something's wrong."_

 _Her lip trembled. She opened her mouth, clearly about to answer, but at the last minute her expression shifted into what he jokingly referred to as her "Stepford Wife" face. In other words, all visible emotion disappeared, replaced a mask of calm. "Nothing. Like I said, this was a mistake. I gotta go."_

 _Before he knew what was happening, she stood up, straightened her skirt and strode out the door, leaving him to stare dumbly at his thunderstruck reaction in the mirror._

Suddenly, he had to get out of there. If he squinted, he could easily imagine Addison standing there as she frequently did. Hell, she'd stood there not two days ago, one hand resting protectively against her belly as she instructed her interns.

He sharply turned the corner and pressed the button for the elevator. He could see in its doors that his clothes were covered with blood. _Her_ blood. Although he was very used to seeing blood, this sight caused bile to rise up sharply in his throat, and he jabbed the elevator button again and again. He'd half hoped to lose the interns, but it seemed that Bailey's strict instructions had scared them straight, because they followed him inside and rode up with him.

"Um…" one of them said hesitantly as he got out on the floor where the OR was located. "You're not supposed-"

"Relax." He snapped, sort of enjoying the intern's fearful expression. "I just need to change my shirt." He started to walk towards his office, but on his way he passed by the OR board, causing him to stop sharply.

Under "patient" for OR 1 read a name that had been achingly familiar to him ever since his first day in med school. A name he treasured both in his mind and verbally, one that conjured up images of a sassy, feisty and incredibly smart woman, one he still couldn't believe was his.

 _A. Montgomery._

His hand unconsciously made its way to his pocket where the ring still sat in the box, miraculously in one piece while its intended owner was not. Would he ever have the chance to use it? He knew she'd keep her name, perhaps adding Sloan to the end as she'd once done with Shepherd.

Would she die before getting that chance?

* * *

"Would you just leave me alone for five damn minutes?!" He all but growled. Part of him felt bad for the interns tasked with babysitting him, but the other part, the larger part, wanted nothing more than to be with her. How could he have let Bailey talk him into staying away? He'd _promised_ Addison he'd stay with her.

"Dr. Bailey said-"

"I don't CARE!" His voice warbled, and he knew if he thought anymore or spoke or anything he'd burst, the tears of fear and shock and horror that had been threatening to spill all day finally releasing themselves. The idea of crying in front of anyone, though, was highly unappealing. "If you're so scared of the Nazi you can-"

"You can go." A voice interrupted. Bailey, again. "Good job." She said in a disgruntled manner, indicating her dislike with praising anyone.

He was curious as to how they'd found him here, in the stairwell and not in his office or the cafeteria, or but the larger question on his mind took precedence. "What happened? How is she? How is-"

It was then that he noticed the weary looks of exhaustion across his colleagues' faces, coupled with messy hair and dark circles.

"As well as could be expected." Derek answered. Out of everyone, he, Bailey and Richard looked the worst. "She, um…" He hesitated, seemingly choking on his words.

Meredith placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled comfortingly up at him, and he continued speaking. "She's stabilized, for now. We're going to keep her in the ICU for 24 hours, and if she makes it…" He broke off again, turning his head away as his face crumpled in a way Mark had seen only once or twice before.

If her ex of all people, someone who never cared for her in the way she deserved, was having this reaction, this meant…

 _No. Please, no._

Bailey picked up where he left off. "But there's something you should know." Her voice was gentler than he'd ever heard, prompting his hands to start shaking yet again. "She started contracting."

" _What?_ No, that's not possible, she's only at 23 weeks!"

The surgeons exchanged a glance. "You know that sometimes after a severe trauma…"

"I got that. Don't talk to me like I'm some stupid intern." He snapped. Bailey's words circled through his mind again and again, as did the statistics he'd long memorized. At best, if Carson was born now, he/she would have a 35% chance of surviving.

In other words, barely nothing.

"We're going to do everything we can."

"Yeah?" He challenged. "And what's that? What the hell are you going to do to make sure Addison and my child survives?"

And here the surgeons exchanged another glance. "Well…" Lucy Fields spoke up uncertainly. "I will do what I can, but, I'm…a little out of my depth to be completely honest."

 _Because they needed Addison._ He finished in his mind.

Mark laughed ruefully, bitterly to himself as the truth cycled through his mind. The only person who could save Addison Montgomery and their unborn child was...Addison herself.

The irony. She saved tens of thousands of lives, solved impossible cases day after day, year after year, yet when it came to herself they were hopeless. It was so unfair. So fucking unfair.

 **Author's note: Just to clarify, the bet they were referring to in the flashback is the one in season 3 where they had a 60 day no sex pact, which we all know Addison broke.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

During their internships, they'd once taken turns napping in an empty room. As crazy as it sounded, the hospital beds were slightly more comfortable than the bunks in the on-call rooms.

If he closed his eyes and ignored the steady beeping of the heart monitor, he could almost pretend he and Addison were interns again, her trying to catch a quick nap without their superior finding out while he kept watch despite his own exhaustion because he _always_ did what she wanted. Later that night, they'd hit up a bar nearby and drink until they blacked out. He'd take home a random woman, although of course at night he'd dream of _her_ , one of his best friends, someone Derek had once drunkenly confessed that he had feelings for. Mark, being the loyal brother he'd always tried to be, had backed off and kept his own feelings private.

It grew darker and darker outside as he sat practically motionless by her side, her hand clasped in both of his. Derek, Richard, Meredith-they all stopped in occasionally, offering (or on Derek's part, practically forcing) to take his position and not so gently telling him that he needed to sleep, shower or both.

He hadn't budged an inch, of course, instead choosing to remain in that uncomfortable chair. He studied her hand in an effort to avoid staring at the various tubes and things sticking out of her body. She practically never went a day without keeping her nails neat and perfectly shaped. If he focused his gaze solely on her hands, he could almost pretend they were simply at home.

Mark sat back in his chair; 24 hours. In 24 hours, the unthinkable could happen. 24 hours, or two twelve-hour increments. What was he doing 12 hours ago?

12 hours ago, he'd woken up to that rare Seattle sunshine filtering in through the curtains (he preferred no nonsense blinds, but she'd insisted on curtains). She was still sleeping, curled on her side, snoring softly. He'd tried to fall back asleep, knowing it was way too early, yet the combined excitement and trepidation from what he'd planned to do that weekend kept him from slumber. So he simply kept his eyes open and just watched her breathe.

He'd reached out to touch her belly, the familiar joy filling him as he felt their child moving inside, kicking out softly. Was this what would've happened if she'd stayed with him in New York? They rarely discussed the abortion anymore, both of them acknowledging it had been the right choice, but sometimes he couldn't help wondering what his life would've been like at this very moment if Seattle never happened.

" _Addison! Let's go!"_

 _Mark sighed with frustration as he looked up the stairs again, and then back down at his watch. Fifteen minutes. The gala started in fifteen minutes. It would take at least that long, if not longer, to wait for the Town Car to locate them in that damn New York traffic._

 _There was no response, of course. Mark rolled his eyes and headed instead for the den. If he stood there any longer (it had been half an hour at least, by his count), he'd rip off that stupid tie, ball it up and throw it out the window. Clearly, hospital galas weren't his thing, but as two of the most esteemed surgeons they were expected to at least make a short appearance._

 _His irritation quickly dissipated as he caught sight of the two young girls sitting in the den. A large chest sat on the carpet, doll clothes, shoes and various accessories Mark could not name spilled out around them. The older girl, a vivacious six year old, sang aloud and off-key to the CD full of kids' music (that Mark unfortunately knew the lyrics to) playing in the stereo. Her bright red hair was styled into a high ponytail. The younger girl, a petite three year old, clumsily attempted to pull a ball gown over her doll's head. Her strawberry blonde hair hung in messy curls around her face._

 _As the girls caught sight of Mark, their faces lit up._

" _Daddy, look!" The six year old, Ella, beamed as she held up her doll. "I braided her hair! Isn't it pretty?"_

" _Very." Mark agreed as he came over and sat on the couch; he pulled out something from his butt, which was yet another doll accessory._

 _"Daddy braid too." Ella insisted as she thrust a doll at him._

 _"Oh, no, honey, remember, Daddy has to go out with Mommy. If Mommy will ever finish doing God knows what." He muttered that last part under his breath._

 _Ella, of course, didn't really understand. "Daddy braid with me." She repeated._

 _"Alright, alright." He said, taking the doll. He felt fifty shades of ridiculous as he began to braid the doll's hair with his carefully trained surgeon's hands. "You don't know his yet, Ella, but just like your mother you have ways of getting me to do things I don't want to do." He completed the braid and held the damn doll up. "What do you think?"_

 _Ella scrunched up her nose. "Ugly."_

 _Mark widened his eyes with fake shock. "Well I think it's beautiful. What do you think, Carson?"_

 _The other little girl simply beamed up at him. "Pretty."_

 _Mark laughed in response. "That's my girl."_

 _Never in his life had he ever imagined this. He spent his fair share of time with women and had been called "Daddy" many times over, but never in the way it was used now. As Ella and Carson played together on the carpet, trading doll accessories and setting up what looked to be a tea party of some sort, he felt something he'd never thought he'd experience-contentment and love._

 _Heels echoed in the foyer and approached the room; Mark didn't need to turn around to know that his wife stood in the doorway._

 _"Mommy!" The girls immediately dropped their dolls and ran over to Addison, hugging her legs and chattering endlessly about their new favorite Disney movie with talking animals._

 _"Well, its about damn-" The words barely made their way out of his mouth before Mark found himself literally speechless...and not a bit unworthy._

 _Addison stood in the doorway, clad in a long and sort of tight blue dress that fell down to her ankles. Her hair was up in one of those deceivingly simple looking yet ridiculously complicated twists, showing off her long neck. She looked up from their daughters and fixed him with a stare and a raised eyebrow._

 _"You were saying?" She said, her voice teasing. She bent down to the girls' level and wrapped an arm around each of them._

 _"Um..." His tongue felt heavy in his mouth for a moment but he quickly recovered because hello Mark Sloan did not do flustered. "You're finally done."_

" _Look, Mommy!" Ella thrust her doll at Addison. "Daddy can braid!"_

" _Wow." Addison looked up at Mark and smirked. "I'm impressed."_

 _Ella beamed up at her mother. "Want to come to our tea party?"_

" _Tea party." Carson echoed. She grinned adorably and pressed her palm against Addison's cheek. "Mommy come."_

" _I'm sorry," Addison said, straightening up. "Mommy would love to, but she and Daddy have to go out tonight. Remember, Erin's going to play with you tonight." She responded, referring to the babysitter._

" _Yeah, you're going to have more fun than us for sure." Mark interjected, earning an eye roll from Addison. Mark and Addison kissed their daughters goodbye, and headed to the door to grab their coats._

 _Mark looked at his watch. "And look at that. We're now officially half an hour late to a stupid gala I never wanted to attend in the first place. Why are we going again?"_

" _Because," Addison said, reaching out to fix his tie. "we're-"_

" _I know," Mark interrupted. "We're fabulous and the life of the party. But," He started, taking a step towards her. "Are you very sure you still want to go? I'm sure nothing would happen if we miss this."_

" _Stop." Addison protested laughingly._

" _Besides." Mark said, his voice growing low and husky. "Have I told you how incredibly sexy you look tonight?"_

 _Addison wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his; he could feel her wide smile. "No, but you could certainly tell me again."_

 _As her hands tangled themselves in his hair and his hands roamed over her back in that special way that always caused goosebumps to crop up all over her arms, Mark thought idly to himself that his life had ended up so perfect, it was almost like a dream._

 _It had been rocky at first after Derek caught them together in bed, but soon Addison had found out she was pregnant with Ella and it was like a fresh start for them. Carson had arrived not too long after. The last he heard, Derek had moved to some rainy city. Seattle? Or was it Portland? Amelia still remained in contact with both her brother and Addison, and apparently Derek was with some intern now. Neither Mark nor Addison gave a crap, honestly._

" _Mark…" Addison whispered in his ear. "Mark."_

 _He ignored her, continuing his motions._

 _But her voice continued. "Mark." It said, more insistently this time._

" _Yes, Addison?"_

" _What? I didn't say anything." She responded._

 _A vision of a broken windshield, followed by Addison lying in a pool of blood suddenly flashed before his eyes. He abruptly broke away from her._

" _Mmm, you're right. We should get going. We can pick this up after." She frowned, noticing his horrified expression. "What? What's wrong?"_

 _As fast as the vision appeared, it was gone. "Nothing."_

 _Addison turned around to shrug on her coat. As he reached for his, a second vision came to him. He saw Addison lying on a gurney, surrounded by Derek and a bunch of strange surgeons he'd never met. She flatlined, and a stocky blond man grabbed the paddles._

 _But that didn't make any sense. Addison, his wife and the mother of his beloved daughters, stood right in front of him, beautiful and whole. She turned around to smile at him as she opened the front door._

" _Mark." The voice repeated. This time, it sounded nothing like Addison. "Mark. Wake up. You need to wake up."_

Mark jerked awake so violently he nearly fell sideways out of the chair. "Wha…" One hand was dangling down, while the other still held Addison's and had grown numb in the process. Light poured into the room, a stark contrast from the darkness he last remembered.

Derek stood over him, his face a mask of exhaustion and sympathy. "I've been trying to wake you for the last five minutes."

Mark ran his free hand over his face blearily. "Shep? What's going on?" He asked as he noticed Derek's stricken expression. "Is she-"

"Still the same." Derek responded. He sat down in the chair next to Mark's, and for the first time Mark noticed the dark circles underneath his best friend's face. Derek looked as terrible, if not more, than Mark felt.

"Oh."

A beat of almost companionable silence filled the room.

Derek broke the silence with an ironic chuckle. "How did we get here, huh?" He reached out and touched Addison's arm. His curls were matted in a way Mark hadn't seen since, well, ever.

"Well, the last I recall you caught me in bed with your wife. Ex-wife."

Derek nodded. "Right. Hell of a thing to forget."

"Do you think she's in pain?" Mark murmured.

Derek frowned. "I mean technically she's asleep. Sedated…you know what I mean."

"But…?"

"She's probably taking a nice nap right now, laughing at the two of us." Derek joked. It was a defense mechanism Mark recognized well; Derek had a tendency to mask his feelings with humor or avoidance.

Mark decided to go along with it. "She always did enjoy a good laugh at our expense." He laughed for the first time in what felt like ages; his face muscles felt awkward after so many hours of frowning. "Remember the time we randomly cut class and hopped on the first flight out to Vegas?"

Derek paused as the memory slowly came back to him. "…and instead of gambling we went on that roller coaster. Which one was it?"

"The New York New York roller coaster." Mark answered. "Oh, man. Eleven straight shots of tequila didn't even make me vomit as hard as I did after."

Derek laughed openly, his features lighting up. "I remember Addie didn't even want to go. We practically forced her to, and I swear I lost feeling in my hand."

"Same here." Mark nodded as he remembered the way he and Derek had begged and pleaded with her. She'd argued that they could go by themselves and she could happily watch. In the end, though, she'd gone with them, holding tightly onto their hands. It was almost like the way he held her hand now and the way Derek lightly gripped her arm.

Mark wrenched his gaze from her, focusing his attention on Derek instead. "I think out of us she had the most fun."

"Oh, definitely." Derek agreed. "And I know she enjoyed watching the two of us puke for hours."

"She probably got that strong stomach from all that caviar growing up. She tried to get me to have some once. I've never regretted anything more." Mark shuddered.

Once the memories started, it was almost impossible to stop. "What about the time we pretended that we were all dating?"

"Yes!" Mark exclaimed. "What was his name…Todd something?" He'd been a borderline creepy guy from one of their classes had been super into Addison, even tracking her down to the bar she, Derek and Mark had been one night. To scare him off, Addison had quickly pretended she was dating both of them. Mark and Derek had quickly played along, and Todd had been history.

Derek was now laughing loudly. Thank God Richard had placed Addison in a private room, because otherwise surely other patients would've given them strange looks. "His face though! The best thing was that he actually bought it!"

 _Why wouldn't he, though?_ Mark thought. They'd been so close and so in sync with each other, like a real family.

The tense atmosphere in the room seemed to disappear as more memories resurfaced. But just as the knots started to disappear ever so slightly from the back of Mark's neck, and just as Derek started to sit back in his chair instead of keeping his spine upright and rigid, Meredith burst in. "There you are! Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt."

Derek stood up immediately, overturning the chair as he noticed the way Meredith was biting her lip, and the crease between her eyebrows. "What is it?"

"I…" She hesitated, noticing the way Mark had stood up as well. The tension had returned to his neck, and he almost didn't want her to continue. However brief the eye of the storm had been, it had felt damn _good,_ almost like everything was normal.

Almost.

"The, um…" Meredith began. "The police are here. I tried to delay them as long as possible."

"What happened was pretty simple." Mark snapped. "Someone crashed their damn truck into my car."

"You know they still need a statement." Derek responded. He placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. "I could come with you."

Mark shook Derek's hand off. "No, I got this." With one last look at Addison's still body, he stomped out of the room, vowing to return as soon as he could.

* * *

"…and then a truck came out of nowhere." Mark said tonelessly. "I hit my head against the airbag, I guess, while Addison…"

"Yes?" The officer nodded, her brow furrowed with a mix of concentration and sympathy. It was worse this way; Mark almost wanted a cop who'd care less.

He bit down his tongue and tried to keep his voice steady. "She flew out the windshield."

"And did you see what happened to the other driver?"

"No. I think he got out of his truck?" Mark snapped. "You know, I was a little busy making sure Addison didn't…that she wasn't…"

"Okay." The cop responded. She snapped her notebook shut. "I think that about covers it. This sounds like this was the fault of the other driver-"

She was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder by another cop, who murmured something in her ear. Mark sighed, not hesitating to show his impatience. Every second he spent with these idiots meant another second away from Addison and his child.

The cop turned back to him, an odd expression on her face. "I, um, I just heard from my colleague," She gestured to the other cop, who'd walked away.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude." Mark said harshly. "But my," he stopped himself before he said _wife._ "…I need to get back upstairs."

The cop nodded. "Of course. It's just that, we don't think this was an accident."

Mark heard the words, but they weren't clicking in his mind. "Of course it was an accident. That's what I saw. You said so yourself."

 _Wasn't it?_

"Not exactly. Apparently the other driver, the driver of the truck, just confessed. He did this on purpose. He intended to crash his truck into your car."

Mark just stared at her. Her words swam around in his mind; he understood each and every one individually but not what they meant when placed together. " _What?"_

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sloan, but this was no accident."

 **Author's note: Thoughts?**


End file.
